


One Of Those Dimensions

by cellard00rs



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Explicit Language, M/M, Mentions of past prostitution, Sexuality, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-21 02:39:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11348166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cellard00rs/pseuds/cellard00rs
Summary: Ford tends to Stan's wounds and Stan finds out someone has a crush





	One Of Those Dimensions

“Ow.”

“Oww!”

“OWWWWWWWWW-”

“Oh, please!” Ford snaps, cutting off Stan’s cry of ‘pain’, “Don’t be an ass!”

“How am I being an ass for reacting to this shit?” Stan snaps incredulously as Ford rolls his eyes and continues bandaging his brother’s right forearm, “What did ya put on that cut? Acid?”

“It’s a healing tonic of my own concoction,” Ford explains, tactically ignoring Stan’s muttered ‘good lord’ as he continues, “And while I admit it does have some side effects, such as a  _mild_  sting, it is worth it to avoid infection and it will make your wound heal ten times faster! Now – if you can control yourself – I still have your face to administer to.”

“Nuh uh! No way am I letting you put this shit on my  _face_! I’m in enough pain as it is without that! Not to mention I gotta deal with being disfigured now!”

Ford lets out an aggrieved sigh, “You’re not disfigured, Stanley…”

“What’re you talking about?! Look at me!” Stan points to his face, specifically his nose, “A chunk of that’s  _missing_!”

“Not a chunk, just,” Ford’s whole face seems to squirm as he answers, “Those weird bumps you had.”

“Weird bumps! I’ll have you know those were moles! Or warts. I don’t really-?”

“Whatever they were , they’re gone now, but the rest of your nose is perfectly intact. If anything our fight with that mantid merely gave you a chance for free cosmetic surgery.”

“Oh that’s nice. Real nice, Sixer. That thing cuts me up and YOU call it an improvement!”

“Now, I didn’t say that! Just-!” Ford scowls and shakes his head as he dabs some more of his tonic on the washcloth he’s been using to clean his brother’s injuries. He goes for Stan’s face, but his twin dodges him. Not that there’s much room  _to_ dodge. They’re cramped in their boat’s cabin, which would probably be roomier were it not filled to the brim with experiments, sea charts, beer cans, old sandwiches, magazines and other paraphernalia.

As such, Stan doesn’t have much success in avoiding Ford and eventually does end up with the washcloth against his nose, even as he hisses and curses through it, the sting of the tonic a lot more than ‘mild’. Ford’s eyes dance about a bit before he murmurs, “Thank you.”

Stan just blinks, confused, until he hears a soft, “For saving my life. Again.”

The fight with the mantid had been brutal. The creature had been terrorizing a coastal town in Greece for some time, until the Pines twins had come on the scene. Personally, Stan actually enjoyed the fight. It was always rousing – punching a monster in the face. Not to mention, as of late, things with his twin had been…weird.

The first few months at sea had been so preoccupied with getting everything situated and reminiscing, that it hadn’t left much time for…now. A ‘now’ in which Stan was starting to realize, more and more, that his twin was a stranger to him. And not even in the sense of his now shoddy memory, but in the mere fact that they had spent decades apart. The Ford of now was very different from the Ford from then.

Yes, both were annoyingly arrogant at times and both liked strong coffee and reading books and being an overall Poindexter-nerd, but…there were many, many differences. Like how the Ford of now was sort of…quiet. Somber. Almost depressed at times and Stan had stared depression in the face before, but not like this.

He was honestly wondering if his brother didn’t need some kind of medication or something. Not that he would ever make him take it. Hell, there were probably a lot of meds Stan himself should be on, but he refused to recognize. 

Because they came from a time when it’d been drilled into them that taking pills for mental quirks was a weakness and god help the weak. ‘Weak’ wasn’t something a man was supposed to be, and certainly not a  _Pines_  man and god, he can just hear that in their father’s voice.

And then there was the fact that they were both just…cramped in these close quarters and Ford…he looks different now. Not like the brother Stan remembers. And maybe Ford thinks the same thing because the way he looks at Stan these days…

…and Stan knows he’s gotta be going crazy, that whole mess with Bill really tearing his ol’ grey matter apart, because there’s no way his brother is…checking him out. Which, it feels like he’s doing sometimes. And that’s beyond nuts. They’re family for Christ’s sake! If anything, Ford’s checking him out in that clinical, mad scientist way – thinking of how to take Stan apart and put him back together again, not…

It’s just, okay; Stan is normally pretty good at picking up on these kinds of things. It’s how he made marks back in the day when he was hookin’. He can pick up on someone’s interest in him. Yeah, he might be a gross old man now, but back in the day he wasn’t all  _that_ bad looking. Or, at least, not bad enough looking that he couldn’t sell his body for some cash. So, he can pick up on the signals people are throwing down if they’re interested in, well, him.

And sometimes, now, it’s like…like he’s getting those signals from Sixer. And that can’t be right. Right? His brother is like, zero in the sex department. He has no interest in man, woman, machine – nothing. He lives, breathes, eats science. It’s his religion, his partner, his one true love…he’s not at all, in any kinda of way, a sexual being. And, even if he was, he wouldn’t direct that sexuality at his own  _brother_.

But the way Ford is looking at him now, brown eyes all intent but still sort of squirrely…like he can’t quite meet Stan’s eyes because he’s…nervous. Why would he be nervous? It must have just been the thank you. It’s gotta be the thank you, so Stan just gruffs, “Eh, don’t worry about it. Saving your life’s par for the course at this point. Although, I gotta say, never expected it ta be sucha full time gig, you should really start paying me.”

Ford gives a shy grin at that, drawing away the cloth and inspecting the sight of Stan’s injury and Stan knows he should keep his mouth shut. Keep it shut, keep it shut, keep it-!

“Or, y’know, you could pay me in other ways,” Stan risks. Risks the flirty tone, risks the eyebrow wiggle, risks it to see what his twin will do and he expects no reaction or expects his brother to take it as a joke, or expects anything but for his twin to pull away as if slapped, nervous and stuttering as he actually damn near leaps up and hits his head on some piece of whatever, because he’s moving so damn fast, “Oh! I-!  _Ah ha_!”

Holy shit.

Holy SHIT.

Hoooollly-!

Stan’s eyes widen and it would be impossible for him not to recognize this. Hell, a blind man could recognize it. His brother is responding. Ford Pines, Stanford Pines, the AUTHOR of Dipper’s fevered hero worship, is nervous and nervous because he just…just got flirted with. Flirted with by his brother. His brother who he, apparently, has a thing for? And holy shit. They’re FAMILY.

Family and family doesn’t, they don’t…

…okay,  _some_  families probably do, sure. But those are the kind of families mentioned in torrid whispers or scandalized news pieces or…

Not the  _Pines_  family. Not  _his_  family and Stan thinks he should react with something more than just shock. He should be…revolted. He should be appalled beyond belief. He should be running for the shore. Anything, ANYTHING, but curious. 

Curious and…wanting to see what will happen if he pushes this. Ford is sort of turning around in a circle now, rubbing at his bumped head and laughing like a loon before he resumes his seat and clears his throat, “D-D-Duh-Don’t be ridiculous, Stanley! How can I pay you? I…we have so little money as it is. And besides, I don’t…don’t see myself getting you anything else you like. Fame and b-‘babes’ or whatever…”

“I like more than babes,” Stan confesses easily, “I’m a fan of both, Sixer.”

“Fan of-?”

“Guys and girls,” he returns and Ford’s eyes narrow into a squint, “I don’t…? Like…in…in an amorous way?”

“Sheesh,” Stan huffs, “You say I look like Pops, but you sure as shit act like him. Yes, Sixer. I like both that way. I know it’s a shock ta ya, but it’s not so uncommon ‘round these parts anymore. People are opening up to that sorta thing. This ain’t Glass Shard nineteen-seventy something…we’re in  _the future_ ,” he says the last in a silly voice, waving his hands to add to the effect, “There’s still a lot of stigma, sure, but people are at least  _talking_  about it now.”

“Oh,” Ford offers inelegantly and he’s twisting the washcloth in his hands, “I…I didn’t…! I’m not saying it’s-it’s a  _bad_ thing. I guess I’m just…just surprised is all. It’s…it’s nice to know we’ve advanced somewhat. In other dimensions it’s perfectly acceptable to…”

He just trails off, looking down and something occurs to Stan, something worth asking, “I bet a lot is acceptable in other dimensions. Not just guys and girls, but other species. Maybe even family.”

He tosses it out so simply, so easily, but Ford’s whole head jerks up and his gasp is damned near deafening, “What?”

Stan just shrugs, “Yeah, why wouldn’t it be? Other worlds, other rules. It’s probably completely normal for siblings to-”

“ _No_ ,” Ford cuts him off, looking harried, “It’s…it’s  _not!_  It’s-!”

He sounds so agonized that Stan almost feels bad for saying anything. Almost. But he had to push, didn’t he? Had to know and now he  _does_ and goddamn it, that feeling of disgust just ain’t coming. It’s just…MORE curiosity. More and more of it and it just...everything slots in so  _well_. That feeling of disconnect, of stranger-ness. That feeling that Ford isn’t his brother so much as…someone else. Someone new. Someone…available.

Someone whose face is more reminiscent than familiar. A face that’s…appealing and shit. Shit shit shit shit…

“You tellin’ me you never came across-?”

“I,” Ford swallows loudly, the noise echoing in the cabin, “I…may have. But here…here it’s not…”

He finally meets Stan’s eyes and Stan feels an electrical bolt between them. A heated shift and he curses under his breath before he raises his right hand. It hovers, hovers near Ford’s face, hovers near his chin and he’s got more than a five o’clock shadow and it’s been a long, long time since Stan’s felt another man’s stubble under his palms, much less his now  _wrinkled_ one and he…he finally just reaches out and does it.

He cups his brother’s face in his hand and then his hand shifts, slides so easily, so smoothly, back to the nape of Ford’s neck, fingers diving into gray hair as he urges him forward and their mouths…their mouths meet. 

It’s odd.

Sloppy and wet and…bizarre. But  _perfect_. Perfect in it’s unique, nonconformity. And Ford breathes in, a cool rush of air sliding between their lips before Stan lets his tongue slip out.

It’s a wet, silky slip of force that enters so effortlessly into Ford, into his mouth and along his tongue and Ford lets out this weird, abortive moan and it shoots straight to Stan’s balls. Fuck, he hasn’t felt anything down in that old sack of flesh in decades, and now  _he’s_  the one moaning. Moaning as he angles his head better, makes the kiss  _deeper_ and shit, that’s what they’re doing.

They’re  _kissing_. Kissing and touching one another and all the aches and pains Stan accrued from the fight and life in general seem to fall away. He feels…alive. New and fresh and Ford’s clinging to his shoulders and whimpering like a damsel in distress and Stan surges forward, pushes him back against the various junk that surrounds them as he starts properly plundering his mouth, kisses growing in intensity and Christ, they’re making out?

Making out and necking like a couple of randy teens and it’s a  _long_ time before either manages to draw away. Manages to  _peel_ away and that’s what it is. Like removing a sticker from a bottle, this sort of unwrapping pull from one another, and Ford’s eyes are glassy with lust and Stan’s huffing like he’s run a marathon because he hasn’t kissed anyone like that in…well, forever. If at all.

They look at one another, sort of dumbfounded, but Stan finds his voice first, “So…”

“Yeah…” Ford offers baldly and Stan whole body feels jerky, otherworldly, as he hears himself say, “Guess we’re one of those dimensions too.”

“I…I guess so,” Ford admits, bashful and avoiding Stan’s gaze and Stan answers in the only way he can think  _to_  answer, “Good.”


End file.
